


Saints and Safeguards

by Ladylauralue



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:49:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5845720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladylauralue/pseuds/Ladylauralue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan and Jefferson are hunters, who happened to cross paths and join up. Henry and Grace often stay at home, doing work, staying safe.</p><p>A drabble verse collection that is open to prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the first thing I wrote for this, but chronologically it happens first.

The diner wasn’t much, but it promised good food and affordable lodgings. This was the place she’d been recommended, though it had been a while since then.  With a sigh shoved her car into first gear and pulled the parking brake. In the rearview mirror she saw her nine year old son, out cold, his hands cradling a heavy book she’d bought for him second hand. The trunk held six more; the thing Henry hated about their nomadic life was his inability to collect more than a few books. Emma had only been able to allot so much space for books. They needed clothes, and they carried a mini arsenal, as well as enough food and cash for at least a week. Emma sighed and leaned around to shake his knee, murmuring an apology as he started awake. “We’re here.”

With bleary eyes Henry looked around, scooting towards the window closest to the bed and breakfast. He didn’t say anything, but he rarely did when they showed up somewhere new. He would wait until he’d felt the “impression” of the place, and then give in to his inquisitive nature. A bit of an odd duck, but they were odd duck’s together. “Are you ready to go in?” She asked, receiving only a sleepy nod from her son.

She pushed the faded yellow door open and swung her legs out, her worn boots hitting the asphalt with a thumping clatter as she unfolded herself from the car. Wrenching the seat adjustment, she reached in to grab Henry’s small duffel while he clambered out and stretched. Guilt pooled in her chest as she remembered the last time he’d been able to walk around. There’d been children at the fast food place they’d stopped at, running around a little indoor castle and he’d asked if they could eat inside. They’d only stayed for half an hour because Emma had been anxious to get going. “I’m sorry kid,” she started as they walked toward the door, “I know this isn’t easy for you. I’m still learning here too…” she trailed off, unsure of how to make apologies for a necessary lifestyle.

Henry stopped next to her, his expression dull but curious. “Mom, it’s ok. Most kids would be stuck in the same town all their life, going to the same school, with the same people.” He shrugged, his thin shoulders barely lifting his back pack. “I’ve been almost all over the country, and I’m only nine.”

Fighting off tears, Emma smiled and reached out her free arm to wrap her son in a hug. “Nearly ten,” She cleared her throat. “Come on, let’s get you settled.”

The diner was mostly empty, a few men along the bar eating what at this hour was probably dinner-just-in-time-for-breakfast, but the couple who caught her eye were in the back booth, sitting side by side. The little girl seemed to be about the same age as Henry, maybe a year or two older, with lost eyes and a sad smile for the man beside her. As the door shut behind Emma and Henry, everyone turned to look, but none with the speed and wariness of the man at the back. Emma recognized that look, she’d seen it all too often on her own face, felt it too often in her gut. A father then, in this meeting place for Hunters; relief warred with caution at the thought of not being the only parent in the game and wondering what happened to get him to this point. Her thoughts were driven from her when a tall brunette walked out, suspicious and curious all at once. “What can I do for you?” her bright red lips smiled, but Emma could hear the caged hostility threatening behind the greeting.

“I’m Emma Swan, this is my son Henry” Emma hoped she wasn’t imagining the flicker of recognition in the waitresses eyes. “We just need a room for him.”

The brunette nodded her acceptance of the story and turned to the man in the corner “He’s in luck, he’ll have some company while you’re away. Come on, I’ll show you your room” without waiting she walked off.

Emma only barely spared a glance for the man at the booth watching her intently. Her thoughts, however, weren’t going to leave so easily.

 

\-------------

 

Living in the world, in the moment, was a difficulty for Jefferson, but one he endured for Grace. His life, his reason for being when letting go would be so easy. She needed him, whole, alive and aware. When she wasn’t the only one in the room, it was easier, because nearly every focus was on protecting her. He kept her close to the wall, in the booth against the back and farthest from the door. He could keep an eye on the guys at the bar, and could even see a little into the kitchen. They’d driven most of the day, but the sun was closer to rising than it had been to setting. Grace was nodding off, making a gallant effort to stay awake that was soon going to come to nothing. Turning to face her, he asked “Well, little rabbit,” her eyes sparkled with tired laughter when he called her that. “Are you ready to turn in?”

“Alright—” her answer was interrupted by someone entering the bar. Even with protective measures in place and constantly checked, he still looked to see the new comer. Never would he ever be careless with Grace, no matter how safe he might feel, might be, he could never let his guard down.

Blonde, searching eyes, and deep red were his first impressions. Then tall legs and a boy at her side. The boy had a backpack that seemed too bulky to be comfortable. Red and dark brown hair and legs like a mile, the waitress was coming up to them, talking. Quick, simple, to the point, and then her flashing smile and bright eyes turned their way—towards Grace and him. The fractured impressions halted; the blonde and red leather sifting into focus as her green eyes met his. She spoke to Ruby, and though he could hear them, he didn’t catch them. Her over the shoulder glance towards him and Grace had him tensing up, ready to run with Grace or fight, until he heard her talk about company, and he saw the boy on her far side. Another parent then, and what empathy he could still feel stirred in his heart.

He felt Grace crane around him to watch the pair leave. “Papa, who was that?”

“I’m not sure Grace,” he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “But maybe you can get to know the boy. You’ll have someone to talk to while we’re here.”

She nodded into his chest. “That’ll be nice.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt, and coming home.

Emma stalked through the forest, questioning her judgment of everything and anything she’d done the last week. She should have left when she knew someone else was on the trail of the shifter, but all the signs she could read pointed to it being far too clever to risk underestimating. She was crazy to try to deal with a man skirting madness, but he was the only one in the area who seemed able and was willing to hunt it down. Sewers were out of the question in the Podunk town, but the woods were thick and dark and mostly uninhabited. The perfect hiding and killing grounds. It made her sick, what they’d found at the three shanties, but she’d learned to keep it inside, to process it later if the chance or need ever came up.

She had a gun drawn, a knife in each boot, and a rusty tire iron she’d found at the last shanty. She wanted to be prepared for anything. A few yards away she could just barely hear her temporary partner, Jefferson, as he crept through the dark. She’d heard of a Jefferson in the business, but the man she worked with was more agile and quite than she believed an artifact purveyor would be. He had skills that came from hard experience, and the Jefferson she’d heard of had mostly dropped off the face of the earth. When they’d agreed to hunt together, she was almost glad for the company. Now, more than ever, as they slowly came up to the shelter of old, warped wood and tarps. She felt something squish under her feet, but knew better than to stop and look. She’d had experience with shifters, and as long as it didn’t make noise, or trip her up, she could ignore the sick feeling in her gut the skins gave her.

Light from inside the broken house filtered through the cracks in the wood and the tarps, and Emma tried to get close enough to peer inside. Before she could get within a few feet, Jefferson had his hand on her shoulder. She looked up and watched him shake his head “no”. Before she could try to communicate in the quiet dark, he pointed to the ground, where dry sticks were laid out in a wide circle around the shack. A warning system, primitive but effective. Jefferson leaned in close and whispered in her ear “Our only chance right now is bold surprise. Are you ready?” Emma nodded, not trusting her voice to be quiet enough. Whispering had never been her strong suit.

Jefferson pointed at her, and then to the closest window, then to himself and gestured around to the door. Emma wanted to argue, but couldn’t, so she nodded. He leaned in again. “Count to twenty, and then tear down the tarp. Have the gun ready.” He started counting, his head nodding up and down to emphasize the numbers, his lips moving without a sound as he backed up and turned to the door. Emma hoped she could keep on count with him. The seconds passed too long, but on fourteen she took a deep breath and grasped the tarp from a safe space away from the sticks and ripped it down as soon as she said “fifteen”.

She hardly noticed Jefferson barge in, too distracted by the occupants of the shack. The waitress, Ruby was tied to a bed with a dirty cloth rag tied over her mouth, while another Ruby stood over her, a knife in her  hand. The Ruby standing looked surprised for a moment before she started talking. “I found it! Grandma never thought I could, and I did!”

She held the knife out as Jefferson walked into the room, gun held out, but not pointed at either Ruby. He glanced around the shack, making sure to make eye contact with Emma, before responding to Ruby. “When you were talking to Grace, what did you want, more than anything in the world right now?”

“What the hell?” Ruby yelled while the one on the bed tried to talk through her gag. “I want to get out of this forsaken town, and be myself, instead of the drone of some washed up Hunter who can’t—” she shut up when Jefferson held the gun to her throat.

“Emma, come inside please,” he called over his shoulder. It was a small shack, but she hated letting them out of her sight for even a few seconds. When she stepped in, he backed away from the two, keeping his gun trained on the upright Ruby. “If you could remove the gag from Miss Lucas’ mouth.”

Holstering the gun, Emma knelt next to the bed and tugged the gag out of her mouth, leaving it around her neck for the time being. “Miss Lucas,” Emma almost envied his even tone. “Same question.”

She licked her lips a few times before answering, yelling through tears “Lemur! I want to find my Lemur!”

No sooner had the words left her mouth, than Jefferson pulled the trigger of his gun, firing two shots into the Ruby standing before him, letting her fall to the ground as he untied her legs from the foot of the bed, rubbing her ankles as soon as they were free. After regaining her composure, Emma did the same for her hands, a bit surprised when she was nearly knocked down by the force of the hug Ruby gave her.

She was whispering something, but Emma couldn’t make it out. “It’s alright, Ruby, you’re safe now,” Emma crooned as she rocked gently and patted her back.

Jefferson stood and walked around to the shifter, picking her up with a grace and strength Emma couldn’t match on her best day, before walking out the door calling behind him. “I may need some help with this.”

Nodding, even though she wasn’t sure he could see her, Emma waited a little longer before getting herself and the traumatized brunette up. “Come on, we gotta take care of things here before we can take you back,” She kept her arm wrapped around Ruby, more to comfort her than any real need, though her shaken nerves made her a bit unsteady.

“Emma, would you look around for a shovel?” she heard Jefferson call out. “Otherwise we have to run back to the car.”

“Yeah, hang on.” She opened the small closet, the only other door the room had, and found an old shovel and a pick axe. “Got one! And a pick axe.”

Jefferson said nothing, just took the pick axe and started hacking into the packed earth. He kept his jacket and scarf on, but it wasn’t that cold, and even with the loose dirt Emma could feel a sweat start to work up. Once they had a deep hole, Emma rolled the body in while Ruby looked resolutely away, curled up in Emma’s leather jacket. Jefferson pulled out a flask –of course he had one—but instead of drinking from it he poured it into the grave, and the strong scent of kerosene hit her nose. Clever. She’d have to remember that. The three stood vigil over the grave until the flames burnt low. Ruby helped with pushing the dirt into the grave, but didn’t say anything as they walked through the forest back to the car. When they got back to the diner, she just hugged her grandmother silently.

Emma helped herself to a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass and walked back to her room. Hopefully Henry would be asleep, but she doubted it.

“You know, you did pretty well back there, for someone used to working alone,” Jefferson stood a pace or two away, leaning against the bar.

“What can I say, I’m adaptable,” she was tired, and her keys were somewhere on her, she just needed to find them.

“Foster system?” She jerked her head up and glared at Jefferson.

“What of it?” She just wanted to see Henry and forget about the day for a few hours.

“Nothing, just an educated guess. No offense meant, I assure you,” He bowed a little before walking to his own room, conveniently next to hers.

“Good.”

“Good night, Emma”

“Good night, Jefferson,” She finally found her keys and opened her door, wanting to distract herself with talking to Henry first, and then alcohol. When she flicked on the light there was just one problem. Henry wasn’t in her room. Her heart squeezed painfully and then burst into rapid beats. There weren’t many places he could be, and he would never scare her. He knew better. She spun around and dashed towards the door, yanking it open, ready to run and fight like hell to find her son, but was brought up short by the lanky figure of Jefferson before her. “Not now, Jefferson.”

“He’s in my room,” Jefferson said, not budging.

“I need to find Henry! Move!”

“He’s. In. My. Room,” he repeated.

“He—what?” Emma finally registered what he was saying. “He’s in your room? He knows better than to leave.”

Stepping aside, Jefferson beckoned her out and led her to the room he shared with his daughter. “It would seem he was keeping Grace company. Usually Ruby does, but with her missing, Grace must have asked him over,” he gestured to the bed when they entered, and Emma couldn’t keep a relieved smile away from her face when she saw the two of them. Henry was curled at the foot of the bed, one of his books open under his hand, while Grace was curled up under the covers. “Let’s not wake them,” Jefferson suggested.

“What, should I just leave him here with you?”

“Or we could take that whiskey and swap hunter stories and shots in your room.”

Emma leaned back to consider the situation. Henry was safe; she could see the salt on the window sills and the shot gun by the bed. There were probably other weapons and protections hidden around the room. “Sounds like a night,” she said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson teaches Henry some stuff, and Emma and Jefferson leave for a hunt. Grace and Henry hold down the fort.

“Henry, come here for a second?”

Obligingly, the ten year old walked around to the tall, lanky man his mother had started traveling with. She’d gone out to check the utility closet – a bad case a few years ago had helped instill a habit of checking the shared areas of the cleaning staff –and left Henry in the care of Jefferson. He shared a quick glance with Grace when he stood in front of her father. The extra people had taken getting used to, but having someone his own age, who didn’t think being afraid of the dark was unreasonable, was really nice. Jefferson held out a set of packet that unrolled to reveal short throwing knives.

“Grace has been practicing with these for a while, but she’s agreed to help you learn to throw.” He pointed to each set of two “Cold Iron, Silver and regular steel.”

“Thanks, sir.”

“Call me Jefferson. And if you’re going to practice inside, make sure you have a big enough target and do not throw at the upholstery.”

“Yes sir – Jefferson. Thank you!”

A knock at the door had Jefferson standing while the two children looked quickly. Henry stepped back to allow Jefferson to answer. He left the chain on as a precaution. “Why, hello, Savior,” he said before closing the door and undoing the latch.

“You need to stop calling me that,” she said as soon as he opened the door. “I got your back, you got mine. We’re even.” She reached out an arm for Henry and he hugged her side.

“If you say so, Princess.” He seemed like he was about to bow, but then turned and reached for Grace.

Henry hated this moment, but at least now he had a friend to wait with. “Bye mom, I love you” he said with his face in her side.

She knelt down and looked him in the eye. “I love you to. Stay inside, and be safe, ok? You have salt, and the shot gun, right?” she looked around until she saw it on the armchair. “Ok, and –”

“And Jefferson gave me these.” He held out the knife set. “Grace is going to help me practice.”

Her smile was sad and proud, and she leaned in to kiss his forehead. “Good, keep busy. Don’t forget to do something out of the books too, alright?”

“Yes, mom.”

When they left, Grace and Henry watched from behind the curtains until the car left their sight. It was nice to have someone to wait, but it was still waiting.

\----------

Outside the cool air stirred dead leaves from their grasp on gnarled trees. The safehouse was surrounded by forest, and trees in the four compass directions guarded the house from harm. It wasn't home, but it was as good as they could expect for now. Emma couldn't let herself get lost in maybes or what ifs. Henry needed her in the here and now.

“Come on Princess” with a mad glint in his eyes Jefferson loaded the last bullets into his backup gun. “We need to head out. Soon.”

With a last backward glance to the bedroom door of her son she nodded and hoisted her travel duffel up onto her shoulder. She never liked talking much when they were heading out on a hunting trip. Every emotion, every fear she had threatening to spill out if she opened her mouth and let the wrong words start to tumble out.

They walked out the door, Jefferson first, eyes watchful as they headed towards their car; he held a gun in one hand, deceptively careless while his other hand swung free. Almost ever the gentleman, Jefferson held the driver door open for Emma before crossing around to the passenger side. Before they pulled out of their driveway they glanced in their rearview mirrors, reaching their arms out their windows to wave goodbye to the two pale faces looking out from bedroom windows.

........

Salt lay on the floor before every door, and on every sill and potential entrance to the ramshackle house in the woods. Holy water was easily accessible, as were iron and silver objects that could be used as weapons if necessary. At the moment, if one didn’t consider the veritable arsenal the house contained, the two children in the living room seemed relatively normal. A young girl with dark, fae eyes knelt by the coffee table, two books open before her as she scribbled in her notebook, occasionally flipping pages to find a certain passage or picture. Laying out on the couch, a single book propped against his stomach, a young  boy stared riveted to the pages he was reading, only occasionally moving to flick his hair out of his eyes. The silence that settled over the room felt comfortable, companionable.

It was the boy, Henry, who heard the noise first; the distant rumble-hum of a car approaching. Immediately he closed his book, only taking a split second to tuck a wrapper between the pages he was reading. “Grace,” he hissed, startling the girl “someone’s coming!”

With the fluid ease of practice, the two rose from their study places; Henry walked to the kitchen to lock the back and garage doors while Grace hastened to the front and side doors. Both showed obvious care to keep from displacing the salt at their feet, and both slipped a small bottle of holy water into their pocket. They met up at the bottom of the stairs, both wide-eyed and silent, alert for the slightest change around them. They stood there for a few moments as they heard the car drawing nearer, unsure what to do. They knew the rules, the guidelines, the protocol, everything that could prepare and protect them if the worst were to happen. They knew their parent’s had a dangerous line of work, but nothing had ever hit close to home. A baby sitter’s house, car and diner, sure, but never home.

Grace’s hand went to the hamsa on a cord around her neck, stroking the warm metal and stones for comfort. Henry slipped his hand around hers, pulling her gently but firmly up the stairs and into her room. They walked hesitantly over to the window, careful again for the salt along the sill, as well as for the blinds. What little they could see, a woman with jet black hair and dark red lips was stepping out of a shiny black car and walking towards the house. Henry felt her hand clasp his and squeeze, and he returned the gesture, turning to look at her face. Their eyes met, fear dancing across their features, bleaching the color from their faces. When they looked out the window again, the woman was out of sight, probably standing on their door step.

When the doorbell sounded, they both jumped, and Grace’s eyes began to tear up as she bit her lip. Henry recognized her expression; holding back tears, fear and panic. He’d heard bits and pieces of what had happened to her mother, and knew that on nights when she had nightmares she tucked herself into the closet with her blanket and stuffed rabbit. When the doorbell rang again he put a finger to his lips and pointed to the closet. Grace nodded and slipped inside, curling up and clutching her hands together. Henry patted her shoulder and walked down the hall to his bedroom, pulling a shotgun out from under his bed and hurriedly tiptoeing back. The doorbell rang again and again, and when Henry got back to Grace he could see she had her eyes shut tight and tears were falling down her cheeks. He swallowed hard and turned to face the room, keeping an eye on the bedroom door and the window.

After a few more rings silence again settled over the house, uneasy and uncomfortable. Henry didn’t move from his position until he heard the car start up and drive away. He made it to the window in time to see the bumper disappear in a cloud of dust. For the first time in a long time, he was anxious and worried for his mom and Jefferson to come home.


End file.
